When I see the crap that police officers have to put up with today I’m
glad I’m retired. The fancy cars and the high tech gear they have now
doesn’t make up for being a police service instead of a police force.
That’s what we used to be, a force, a police force with a uniform that
was respected by everybody, criminals and the public alike. When I
remember how it was . . . well, it was great. Being a copper used to be
the best job in this country. If you don’t believe me, I’ll tell you
the story of my first day on the job.
That’s right, the first time on the beat. Straight out of training
school I was and sent to a small market town in the Midlands. The local
station found me lodgings with a lady old enough to be my mother but a
brilliant cook and some desires that her husband wasn’t satisfying at
all. Not that I found out about that until later, I was happy enough to
start our acquaintance with a breakfast that would have fed a family of
gypsies. Not that any of it got wasted — I was a big lad, six foot
two, with shoulders as wide as a barn door and a lot of muscle from
playing rugby every chance I got.
Aye, I was what they call well presented, with a grin that a lot of
people described as cheeky. Just a big overgrown boy hardly out of my
teens, putting on a old fashioned uniform with a silly helmet and boots
on my feet heavy enough to crush stones into gravel. Still, when I
looked in the mirror I thought I looked pretty smart, what with that
big silver crowned badge above my head, a row of shiny buttons down my
high necked blue tunic and a silver whistle chain tucked into the top
left pocket. What I was soon to find out was how many doors that
uniform could open. Like I say, the force was well respected in those
days.
So, everything straight and tidy for public display and then down to
the station. Not a big place but big enough to handle the routine work
in the town, with a sergeant in charge. He was as big as I was, but a
lot older, a fellow named Hanson. A steady sort, but not a man to take
any nonsense. I spent most of the morning learning the office routine
and then the sergeant took me for a stroll around the town. I got shown
most of the local places of interest and especially where the phone
boxes where located. No pocket radios in those days. What you did on
patrol was to make ‘points’. That meant waiting outside a designated
phone box at a specified time, usually for about five minutes, so that
if the station needed you for anything they could ring through.
After we’d done the tour Sergeant Hanson said he’d leave me on my own
for a while to keep on patrolling. He made sure I knew my point times
for the rest of the shift and then went back to the station. I guess
that wouldn’t happen nowadays, a young copper on his first day left in
the streets on his own with no radio and no weapon except a wooden
truncheon. But that was then and nobody in his right mind tried to make
trouble for the force in those days — not unless he wanted to find out
how heavy those police boots could be when they stamped down on
something.
No, there weren’t any problems, the sun was shining, the locals were
nodding respectfully at me, most of them spotting straight away I was
new in the area. Then a smart young lass stopped for a chat and I was
happy to oblige. In fact, that was what the Sergeant had told me to do,
to talk to the locals as much as possible and get to know them. If this
was the first one, that was fine with me. She said her name was Angela
and I was welcome to stop by her house for a cup of tea whenever I
wanted to. Of course being invited in for a cup of tea was something
anybody would do for a stranger and it didn’t necessarily mean more
than common politeness. Especially considering the pram Angela was
pushing. Still, I made a note of her address anyway. You never knew
your luck with the ladies, that was my belief.
To tell the truth I was starting to enjoy myself, with the attention
the uniform was getting. Or maybe it was the way I was filling it out.
And then there was a scuffle near a pub with a couple of drunks being
silly, but not so silly that they didn’t scoot off around the corner
like long dogs as soon as they saw me coming. The landlord invited me
in for a drink on the house, which I didn’t dare do, in case Hanson
came back. But I was full of myself, feeling like Wyatt Earp on the
streets of Tombstone after the last gunslinger had been carried off to
Boot Hill. Well, I was as young and green as they come.
Anyway, I made another point. The phone in the kiosk didn’t ring so I
continued patrolling and then noticed I was walking past a school. The
kids were streaming out at the end of the day, with the younger ones
being collected by their mothers. All except one woman who was left
hanging around the gates after the rush was over.
“Hello, officer,” she said to me, matching the words with a smile that
straightaway tickled my fancy.
Oh, yes, this one was well worth passing the time of day with. The top
of her reddish tinted hair was a clear foot below my shoulders, with a
curl over her forehead and the rest worn long. Her face was pleasant
without being really pretty, the nose was a trifle too big for that,
but her eyes were green and bold, with a very vivid shade of lipstick
on her smiling mouth. She had to be easily ten years older than me,
more likely fifteen, so the breasts underneath the red and white floral
shirt she was wearing deserved the mature plumpness the fabric clung to
very nicely. Neither was there much amiss from there on down, with a
bright red skirt which was drawn taut over a slightly plump belly and
hips far enough apart for a man to settle onto in comfort. What was
more, the skirt hemline was above her knees, high enough to be about as
far as a respectable married woman could go in those days.
Oh yes, I spotted that drawback straight away, the wedding ring on her
left hand but apart from that it seemed to me that here was the kind of
fancy piece I’d love to have a few drinks with in a pub. By Christ, I’d
have bought this one her booze all night in return for a chance to see
those tits getting shaken around. Married or not, I was going to hang
around within leering distance of this fine looking lady as long as I
could, especially if she kept smiling at me the way she was now.
“Hello,” I answered. “Waiting to collect somebody from the school, are
you?”
She smiled again: “No, no, I’m Anna Morrison, the head teacher here,
just making sure all our little darlings get collected safely.”
“You’re a teacher?”
She seemed slightly puzzled at my question: “Yes. Any reason why I
shouldn’t be?”
“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything,” I said. “It’s only, when I
was at school, all our female teachers . . . well, none of them looked
anything at all like you. If they had, being kept back at school would
have been a pleasure instead of a punishment, believe me.”
She laughed, a deep throaty laugh that made my toes curl. Then she
said: “Oh, I see. Well, you’ve just talked yourself out having to write
any lines for being a naughty boy. I haven’t seen you before, have I?”
“No, you haven’t, Mrs Morrison. It’s my first day in town. I’m
Constable Rogers. Phil Rodgers.”
“Pleased to meet you, Phil. Please call me Anna.”
She shook my hand as if she was afraid that I’d break the bones in
hers.
“My, you are a big fellow, aren’t you, Phil?”
Mmmm . . . and for all her apparent hesitancy in putting her hand in
mine it seemed as if she’d squeezed it for longer than had been quite
necessary.
“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?”
That sounded like a good idea, a chance to get to know her better but
it suddenly occurred to me that here was a chance to try out a trick
that one of the instructors at the training school had tipped us off
about. He’d said that if ever we met a woman we thought might be
willing for some fun and games, the best thing to do was to tell her
there was a flasher fooling around in her neighborhood. Either she’d
be frightened or she’d be interested, and the more interested the
better. Either way, you’d soon find out what sort of a woman she was.
Whatever else I might have missed at the school there was no chance I’d
forget that lesson. Of course, a middle aged married school teacher was
hardly likely to be up for a frolic but this seemed like a good chance
to test the theory.
“Thank you, Anna, but somebody has told me there’s a suspicious looking
character in the area. I thought perhaps I should take a stroll around
the back of the school buildings just to see if I can see anything. If
anybody was there he’s probably gone by now, but you never know.”
“Oh. What was suspicious about him?”
“Well, he was wearing a raincoat for one thing, which seems a bit odd
with the weather as warm as it is today.” I winked at her. “If you get
my meaning.”
“Oh,” she said again, but in a knowing tone. “Oh, one of those, hey?
Wanting to show himself off to some of the children, you think?”
“I don’t about know that, but it might be possible.”
Anna nodded.
“Come to think of it, I saw somebody round the other side of the school
this afternoon. Somebody wearing a raincoat, I mean. It seemed a bit
odd at the time.”
Which was a statement that set me right back on my heels. Here I was
making up a story and here was this woman making up another one of her
own to match it. Either that or there’d been a long odds coincidence
and some fellow in a raincoat had chosen that day to walk near the
school grounds. Whatever, it was a turn in the conversation to take
advantage of.
“Would you like to show me where you saw him?” I asked her. “If you can
spare the time.”
“Yes, I can certainly do that. This way, Phil.”
Here was a fine way to start a new job, strolling across the school
grounds with this very attractive teacher and another hour before I had
to make my last point for the afternoon shift. Mind you, I was
squinting sideways at her and trying to guess whether she’d been
telling the truth about seeing a man in a raincoat, or whether she was
just using it as an excuse for us to go off together. Not that I was
likely to be that lucky. Then she said something which grabbed my
attention like a punch in the nuts during a rugby tackle.
“You know, Phil, I’ve always wondered what the best thing is that a
woman can do if she gets trapped in an alley by one of those raincoat
perverts. Should she fight him or do what he wants?”
Hey hey, it seemed like the instructor had been right on the money with
his advice about how to get an interesting conversation going.
“It depends,” I answered. “Of course the police force has to be careful
about what it says to the public. There’d be all kinds of an outcry if
they suggested that women shouldn’t try to call for help or put up a
fight. But the truth is that if there’s not much chance of getting help
and you’re dealing with some nutcase who seems strong and determined,
it may be best to offer him some co-operation. For a while, anyway,
until you get your chance to break away.”
She turned her head towards me with her lips curved up quizzically:
“What exactly do you mean by co-operating?”
We’d reached the back of the school buildings by then. There was a
narrow strip of grass, a pathway, a hedge which presumably marked the
limit of the school grounds and a head high brick enclosure with
dustbins inside it.
“There’s nobody around here after the children leave. Only the teachers
leaving on their own when they’ve finished for the day in their
classrooms,” Anna told me. “I worry sometimes about that. Suppose one
of those characters was hanging around and he was the dangerous type?”
I certainly wasn’t going to downplay any possible threat from a
prowling pervert, not with the way Anna had been talking before. After
all, it was my excuse for walking around with her. So I made something
of a display of looking inside the bin enclosure.
“This is a bad spot, Anna. If one of your lady teachers got pulled in
here behind these walls nobody would be able to see what was going on.
Is there anywhere else around here which could be dangerous? You know,
where somebody might be lurking?”
Again, I was being hopeful, but one thing was sure, there was no chance
of getting a whiff of romance anywhere near the smell coming out of
those bins. Anna looked up at me from underneath her fringe of tinted
hair and whatever was causing the gleam in her eyes had my adam’s apple
rubbing hard against the tunic’s stiff collar. All of a sudden that
collar seemed to be making breathing a lot more difficult.
“There’s the boiler room, Phil. It doesn’t get used in the summer and
sometimes the school caretaker is careless about keeping the door
locked.”
“Perhaps we should take a look at it then?”
She nodded and led me towards a green door. As I expected it was
locked, but what I wanted to see was if Anna would just walk away after
she’d checked it. She didn’t, she looked back at me and winked, then
reached up to the top of the doorframe and took down a brass yale key.
As she bent down slightly to put the key in the lock I was presented
with a chance to make a longer and more considered examination of the
teacher’s finely rounded stern. A work of art, a genuine work of art,
and wouldn’t I just love to unveil it for a private showing.
‘Careful, lad, careful’, I whispered to myself.
Not only did the tunic collar feel as if it was choking me, but I was
starting to rub against my blue serge uniform somewhere else. I took
off the helmet and held it front of me, trying to think about things
that had nothing to do with women. Because I could get myself into real
trouble if I was misreading the signals here. A lot of trouble.
“Perhaps you should go first, Phil,” Anna suggested.
Why not? I went in, into a long room which was gloomy after the
sunlight outside. There were only two small windows, on each side,
close against the brick walls of neighboring buildings and high up
because there was a boiler set against the wall on each side of me. I
walked down the aisle between them and glanced at the valve handles and
dials on each of the round white painted cylinders. It was something
like being inside the engine room of a ship. Behind me I heard Anna’s
heels clicking on the worn lino. My cock was still refusing to drain
and droop. Perhaps because of the lingering effect of Anna’s perfume
that had filled my nostrils as I’d brushed past her.
Maybe if I thought about ships instead of the teacher — but all that
came into my mind were images of clouds of steam and huge thrusting
pistons. By God, there were problems about being a copper I’d never
thought of. Like finding ways of concealing hard evidence from certain
highly fuckable members of the public.
Then I looked behind the boilers. A basin and a draining board against
the end wall, a steel locker, a table with rose patterned oil cloth, a
wooden kitchen chair and an old purplish armchair, very low and
battered and worn out. Exactly the sort of snug little private set up
that every caretaker has somewhere for his meal breaks.
“Take a seat, Phil,” Anna said. Her hand was clearly indicating the
armchair. “But could I borrow your truncheon, please? Before you sit
down.”
“My truncheon?” I couldn’t make any sense at all of that request.
“Yes, please. I think I might need it as a kind of prop. For
educational instruction.”
God help me, I was nearly stupid enough to ask her what kind of
instruction. I might have done if my jaw hadn’t been hanging so far
down in astonishment. Still, there was only the two of us there and it
hardly seemed likely I was in danger of getting bludgeoned to death by
a lady school teacher. So I lifted up the side of my tunic and pulled
out the foot long piece of polished wood with the county force badge on
it. At the same time I was still trying to cover up my bulging groin,
using the helmet like a matador waving around a red cape to distract
attention away from his sword.
I offered the head teacher the truncheon, handle end first, and then
sat down on the armchair. Right down on the armchair, with the weak
springs collapsing underneath my considerable weight until my backside
was only a foot or two above the floor. And what did Mrs Morrison do?
What she did was to take the other chair, the ordinary wooden one. She
set it down in front of me, in front and up close, and then sat down on
it, her skirt drawing up high enough for me to get an excellent view of
her knees and higher yet. Of course, the ideal position to appreciate
the display would have been to have my eyes at the same level as her
knees — which was about where they were.
Now you might think that I’d have been taking a good long look at those
knees and the appreciable amount of leg on display above them, but
you’d be wrong. Because Anna was holding my truncheon in her lap,
upright and looking down at it as she polished it with a carefully
folded and spotless white handkerchief — that caught my attention, I
can tell you, even down to the blue lace edging on the handkerchief. In
fact it was the way she was polishing it, with her fingers and
handkerchief completely encircling the truncheon, and then sliding the
ring of white fabric up and down the length of the weapon. The action
was exactly the same as if she was jerking a man off. I couldn’t stop
myself from grunting and clutching at the helmet in my own lap.
Anna looked up and smiled again. A long slow one: “You don’t mind me
giving it a rub for you, do you, Phil? Just for luck.”
“No, I don’t mind at all.” It sounded as if I was croaking, the way my
throat had tightened up.
“That’s good. You see, I wanted to hear some more of your advice about
what’s the best thing a woman can do if she gets trapped by one of
those perverts.”
“Oh.”
It came out more like a groan than a spoken word as the teacher gave my
truncheon another brisk rub. And underneath my helmet a genie was
straining to pop out.
“You know, one of those sort who won’t take no for an answer. Do you
think doing this for him might . . . . you know, satisfy him?”
The teacher put the handkerchief aside, placed her fingertips in a row
up and down the side of the truncheon, pressed her thumb against the
other side and worked her hand up and down the entire length of it
again.
“You know what I mean, don’t you, Phil?
What sort of a stupid question was that?
“Yes. I know what you mean.”
“Do you think that would make a man happy, if I did it for him?”
“It would make me happy, Anna, I know that. Very, very happy.”
I had to lift a finger up to that damned collar and tug on it. Not only
did I feel as if I was choking, I could feel my face turning red. Anna
paused for her second in her handiwork to look at me again. A kind of
arch look from underneath that fringe of hair over her forehead.
“A good looking young chap like you, Phil, you wouldn’t be interested
in anything an older woman like me could do for you — would you?”
“For God’s sake, Anna, you’re absolutely bloody gorgeous,” I croaked.
“And if you keep on doing that in front of me I’ll go mad.”
She giggled, gave the truncheon another stroking, then held it up
higher, narrowed her eyes, pursed her red lips and blew a gentle stream
of air across the rounded top. Not as much air as I blew out though.
The teacher watched my reaction with amused eyes and then looked down
at the helmet I was still holding on my lap.
“Phil, I always wondered why they made police helmets in that odd
shape.” She giggled like a drunken schoolgirl. “Now perhaps I know. You
haven’t got another truncheon hidden away under there, have you?”
“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” I offered.
“My what, Phil?”
Anna’s green eyes remained fixed on my face as she moved the tip of the
truncheon closer to her mouth and dabbed at it with her tongue. She
looked like a cat lapping up a bowl of cream. And if I hadn’t been
trapped inside that collapsing wreck of a chair I’d have pounced on
her. No normal man could be expected to ignore that kind of cock
teasing. What in hell’s name sort of teacher was this?
“If I was going to do what I wanted to with you, Anna, the first thing
I’d do would be to tell you to take off your shirt.”
“Well . . . ” She seemed to be thinking about the idea.. “You first.
Show me what’s under that helmet.”
I lifted up the helmet and dropped it on the floor. Anna’s green eyes
seemed to widen as she looked down at the bulge underneath my fly
buttons.
“Good lord, am I responsible for that?”
“Yes, of course you bloody well are, woman. You think I can watch you
licking that thing without getting a stonking great stalk on!”
The teacher laughed and lowered the truncheon. “Well, I’d better stop
inflaming your passions then. But I did make a promise. Do you still
want me to take my shirt off?”
“God, yes, please!”
I didn’t care what I said as long as she did it. And if she did, if she
got undressed with me sitting there watching her, nobody could blame me
afterwards for starting anything.
“Oh, well, if it’s to help the police with their enquiries, I suppose
that’s all right. But wouldn’t it be more comfortable if you undid your
fly buttons? Or shall I undo them for you?”
“Please. Yes, please, Anna.”
“All right then, Phil. We’ll let your pet out for some fresh air, but
only if he promises not to bite me.”
She laughed again, picked up the kitchen chair and moved it closer to
the armchair. When she sat down, those enticing knees were pressed
against mine and Anna was leaning forward over my legs, her long
fingernails working at my top button. It was tight and difficult to
undo. The next one was even tighter and took even longer for her to
unfasten. My opened hands found themselves sliding up along her arms
and up to her shoulders. Anna gasped as I massaged them all.
“Careful, officer. You don’t know your own strength and I need to
concentrate on this job — there that’s another one undone. Phil, are
you not wearing anything under this uniform?”
“No,” I confessed. “I never wear any underpants. I don’t think they’re
healthy.”
“Well, everything I can see so far seems very healthy.”
The head of my cock was poking up out of my trousers, the rest of the
shaft still hidden in them like a periscope in the sea. The teacher’s
fingers were exploring the whole appendage though, running over the
serge uniform as if she wanted to know how much still remained to come
to the surface. Perhaps Anna was impressed, because she gasped. Or
perhaps she gasped because my hands had dropped lower, to help her bra
in supporting the weight of those big, matronly breasts. And I can tell
you they felt wonderful, resting in the palms of my hands as if they
were over ripe fruit ready to have the juice slowly squeezed out of
them.
“Phil, thank you, but I can’t see what I’m doing with your arms in the
way.” Anna said, as if I was only holding a door open for her.
I let go of her tits. But I promised myself I’d be back. The teacher
sighed and bent forward again, unfastening another fly button. My cock
was still half trapped though, still pointing back with the eye at the
top looking up at me. Anna lifted up her right hand, dabbed the top of
her right index finger with her tongue, then put the finger down and
pressed the tip lightly onto the bottom of my cock’s head, on the
border between the smooth curve and my circumcised foreskin. I moaned
and gripped her shoulders again. It felt as if my collar was now five
sizes smaller than it had been.
“Is that the first kiss it’s had in this town, Phil?”
“Yes. And God, it felt good.”
Again I heard that deep throated laugh. “I bet it won’t be the last.
I’m sure a worm this size will soon be getting some nibbles from the
local girls. Just be careful one of them doesn’t put a hook in it.”
She quickly unfastened the last two fly buttons and my best friend
stood up free and unfettered, although he was leaning to one side like
the Tower of Pisa. Until Anna put both her hands on the shaft, one
above the other and held my prick straight. Then she leaned back, still
keeping the double grip, her arms straight out and down in front of
her.
“My God,” she whispered, “It ought to have a brass plate on it: ‘This
monument was raised by pubic subscription’. Phil, do you know why good
time girls used to wear lipstick in ancient Rome?”
“No.” What the fuck was she talking about?
“It was so they could find out which of them could fellate a man the
deepest. By seeing which shade of lipstick was spread the furthest
along his penis. They’d have a real challenge here, wouldn’t they?”
“Nobody ever taught that kind of thing in my history classes,” I said
with absolute truth. “I wish they had. It would have made school a lot
more interesting.”
Anna kept me straight up and down with her left hand while she used her
right one to stroke my cock as she had done the truncheon. My brain
seemed to be swelling up and trying to push my eyes out of their
sockets.
“Phil, the only thing you need to know about history is that might is
right. And I like strong men who take what they want. Why don’t you
pretend I used to be one of your teachers and this is your chance to
get your own back for every punishment I ever gave you?”
I could hardly believe my ears — nothing remotely like this had ever
happened to me in my life before. But if there was ever a time for
asking for an invitation to be repeated, this certainly wasn’t it. One
grab of her wrist, another at her elbow, a good pull and Anna was
sprawling down on top of me, face down and gasping as I maneuvered her
around until I had that plump derriere across my knees. A gift from
lady luck, and I thanked her with a laying on of hands rite. Well, one
palm, actually, slamming down half a dozen times, and every one
connecting hard, hard enough to raise a cloud of dust if there had been
any in that tight red skirt. What was underneath it was certainly
smarting because Anna began bellowing after every slap. It had
something of the sound of a cow overdue for a milking and I hoped to
God there was nobody within earshot.
“Pax, pax, you big brute,” she pleaded.
I stopped laying on the heavy ones and gave her some love taps instead,
spacing them out with plenty of firm rubbing over each quivering
haunch. The head teacher was squirming around and moaning, her hipbone
rubbing up against my own boner. Jesus, I couldn’t keep this game up
for much longer. My hand came down again, one blow, but at full
strength, hard enough for Mrs Morrison to bounce forward several inches
and kick her high heels up off the floor.
“Yeoow!! No, no, please, Phil. I’ll do anything you want me to,
anything.”
“Stand up.”
She huffed and puffed getting back onto her feet, although she made the
movement about as quickly as she could and I didn’t mind, much, because
I had a chance to grab a quick feel of a tit as Anna was rising. No
wonder she was struggling, with all that top hamper to lift up.
“Shirt off.”
Anna kept giggling, standing by the side of the chair and undoing her
buttons as I stroked the backs of her knees. The hot silky patches of
skin underneath her tights trembled, then even more so as I lifted up
the hem of her skirt on the top of my hand. My fingers swirled higher
up her left calf. The shirt came off, sliding along her arms in an
untidy bunch of flower patterned fabric. Sliding along, removed and
tossed over the back of the kitchen chair without Anna moving a step.
Underneath the shirt was a massive pair of low cut blue bra cups with a
pink ribbon sewn in a bow between them, not to mention enough cleavage
for a ferret to hide in. Anna looked down, ran her hands over the cups
and purred. It sounded like the voice over for one of those ads about
putting a tiger in your fuel tank. In my case, getting a tigress to
give you a wank.
At the very back of my mind was the notion that it would be interesting
to make a few inquiries about Mr Morrison. I could easily imagine him
as prematurely bent and aged, the used up remains of a strong man
married to a stronger woman who was permanently on heat. But this
didn’t seem like a good time to mention him. Without waiting for any
order from me Anna began unbuttoning and unzipping the top of her
skirt. I grabbed at the bottom of it and tugged the waistband down over
her wide hips. The sight of the head teacher twisting around like a
Turkish belly dancer as she wriggled herself out of the skirt’s
waistband was completely illegal — an incitement to riotous behavior
if ever there was one. The skirt suddenly began falling of its own
weight, down and down, over my hand and arm, then ending up in a pile
around Anna’s feet. She kicked it aside, laughed, knelt down by the
side of the chair and leaned forward over the armrest. The tip of a
warm wet tongue touched me where her finger had before.
“Do you know much latin, Phil?”
God, that collar was strangling me!
“No.” I croaked.
“Well, if anybody ever asks you, fellatio is the past principle of the
latin word fellare, which means to suck. Do you think I can do
something to help you remember that?”
“Yes. Yes, I think you can help me remember that!”
Suddenly I was looking down at a mass of red hair and good old John
Thomas was getting a generous coating of lipstick around his head and
collar. This was incredible!
But what would happen if I was late for my point and the station wanted
me to speak to me? Missing on my first day? My police career would be
over within twenty four hours. But here was a chance to sneak a quick
look at my watch without offending the very friendly lady, and it said
I still had thirty minutes in hand. Christ, not much time to waste.
Still, while Anna was seeing how far down she could leave a strawberry
tidemark I did something useful by unhooking the back of her bra. Anna
responded by increasing the stroke rate of her latin lesson. Maybe
there were some useful things to learn by studying history. But then
she halfway stood up before crawling forward over my lap and settling
back down on it in the same position as she had been before. Only this
time there was no red skirt ready for punishment but a pair of tightly
stretched blue panties underneath her dark colored tights.
OK, if Anna wanted to feel the heavy hand of the law again, so be it.
One left, one right, one on the bullseye, and then again, pinning her
down across those fine hips with the flat of my left arm as I paddled
her rump with the right. Lots of yelps and groans — look right and see
a pair of high heels kicking up at the ceiling, look left and catch a
glimpse of the teachers bra strap tangled around her elbow and the side
of a plump unfettered breast which seemed to be bouncing up and down
off the floor. By God, I’d bet the boys in this school would have paid
up their pocket money for the rest of their lives to watch this. And it
was still only the beginning. Or maybe I’d fallen off the bus to work
this morning and I was in a coma and dreaming all of this.
Dream or reality, there was no time to waste, not with the watch
ticking away. I heard Anna call out in encouragement as I grabbed hold
of the top of the panties. A tug, another harder one, until the panties
were tangled up with the tights in a roll that I pulled clear of her
buttocks and right down to her knees. The fat white half moons of her
arse seemed to be fighting each other as Anna squirmed around on top of
my knees like an excited puppy. I noticed with some interest a thumb
shaped birthmark on her left buttock. God, but I was a good copper —
the first day on the beat and already I was picking up on useful
identification features. But now it was my turn to let the public know
that the force was always willing to lend a hand.
This time I gave Anna several genuinely crisp slaps, hard enough to
leave a red patch after each one with the sound of bare flesh on bare
flesh echoing around the room. And if you’ve never had a fine figure of
a head teacher slung across your lap and squealing for mercy, well,
you’ve missed an interesting experience. Then I varied the assault by
flattening my right hand and pushing it down between her thighs, the
top finger brushing against the patch of wet moss buried deep in the
top of the crevice. At the same time I reached out with my other hand,
grabbing a handful of tit which included a nipple as big and hard as a
walnut. Anna arched her back like a diver going off a board and
whimpered.
“Jesus, yes! Bring me off!”
“Seeing as how I’ve got a frenchie in my tunic pocket, how about I fuck
you instead?”
“Yes! That’s it, fuck me silly, Phil!”
“Get up then.”
I thought I’d have trouble lifting myself out of that collapsed chair
but it’s amazing what you can do when you’re hormones are motivated. It
might as well have been an ejector seat by the way I shot up into the
air and landed on my feet. But Anna dead heated me by sitting down on
the kitchen table as quickly as I’d got up and tugging her panties and
tights down over those knees I’d been admiring so much only a few
moments before.
As eager as I was to undo that damned collar, it seemed the right thing
to do to kneel down and take a moment to get rid of those underthings
completely, hauling them off and flinging them to one side. And as they
left my hand a couple of warm bra cups dropped on top of my head, with
Anna giggling at the joke. They got thrown away as well, my hands went
underneath the teacher’s knees and I spread her legs open so I could
get my mouth where it would do the most good.
The next time Anna laughed, she had some reason for it. She was wet and
hot and her clit was standing up like a sentry looking out of a trench
before I pushed it down and around with my tongue. There was a kind of
a screeching noise then, so high pitched and going on for so long I
really wondered if one of the boilers was blowing off a safety valve.
But since they weren’t even lit and since a lot of fingers were
scratching at my close cut hair I assumed that Anna was responsible
for the noise. I also decided I’d better stop what I was doing before
somebody heard her and called the police station to report a murder in
progress. So I leaned back into a direct eyeball to nipple
confrontation as I tried to set a record for unbuttoning a uniform
tunic.
Anna opened her legs and leaned forward, holding up her tits from below
as if she was trying to sell them to me in a market place. A giant
economy sized offer that would have been, because she had the biggest
pair I’d ever set eyes on in the raw, lightly tanned all over I
noticed, and if they weren’t in the first bloom of youth they still
looked pretty sprightly. The nipples were nearly as big as the tops of
strawberry ice cream cones and looked even more delicious. I’d only
managed to unfasten my collar hooks so far but that was a great relief
and I couldn’t help but take a second to pinch each of those swollen
tips. Nice and hard too, and I saw Anna’s eyes and mouth make big round
O’s as her nerve endings got jazzed up. Which was a chance that was
even more tempting. I stood up, grabbed the back of her head and pulled
her mouth towards me for another run up and down the scales. Nothing
needed explaining: one set of fingers stroking underneath my balls,
another pair holding the base of my prick steady, and the head teacher
was giving me more head than I’d ever had before.
God, what couldn’t I do with this mad bitch given enough time?
Handcuffs, a cane and a long lazy afternoon in front of a camera and
she’d be my slave for life. And I thought I’d been sent to the
quietest, dullest, most boring town between the Wash and Wales! It was
like lighting a cracker on bonfire night and then suddenly realizing
you had holding a stick of dynamite with the fuse burning down. Except
there was no way of I was going to let go of Anna until she exploded —
or I did. Which was something that was certain to happen very soon.
“Anna, wait, wait!”
I felt around in one of my tunic pockets, pulled out the french letter
and ripped the top of the packet off with my teeth.
“Here, put this on me. Slowly, damn you, slowly.”
For a while it seemed I was never going to undo that tunic. Eight
buttons, eight big silver buttons, eight bloody great buttons, with my
clumsy fingers feeling like a bunch of bananas as I struggled to undo
them and Anna laughing down below as she unrolled the rubber along my
prick. Inch by inch, her fingers squeezing and pushing against the
resistance of the sheath until it was as far back as it was ever going
to go.
“Oh God!” she called out. “Only I could end up getting seduced by a
policeman with a plumber’s friend for a sexual organ. I can’t do
anything with this thing!”
Then she used her lips again to make sure there were no little bubbles
anywhere. Typical woman, one mouth and two different messages coming
from it at the same time.
“Fucking hell . . . ”
The last button finally popped through the last buttonhole, the tunic
went wherever everything else had gone, and I was hauling up by her
hair. Not wanting to hurt her, mind, only to get her into position.
Anna grunted with pain but came along willingly, pushed backwards onto
the table, arching up with her legs wide open and her hands clasped
around the tops of her breasts as though they were going to try to
escape. Which was a reasonable precaution because I was going to do my
best to bounce them off the ceiling. I ripped my braces off my
shoulders, bent down in front of the kitchen chair and grabbed Anna’s
high heels, gripping one of them between my teeth and lifting up her
left foot to slip the other one back on.
“Christ, what are you doing, Phil?”
“Mmmmmm.”
“Take that bloody thing out of your mouth . . . ”
“It’s OK.” I put the other shoe back where it had been. “It’s just that
I like to fuck women with them still wearing their shoes.”
I lifted up her heels and spread her legs apart to rest on my
shoulders. Anna was having some kind of hysterical fit of laughter:
“This never happened to Cinderella”
I guided the tip of my cock between her swollen cunt lips and pushed it
into the yielding flesh. “Then try this for a happy ending.”
Anna stopped laughing and called out: “Yes, yes!” slapping her hands
down on the table top on each side of her body.
I took advantage of the opportunity to grab her tits for myself and to
haul her towards me with them. At the same time I drove into Anna far
enough to make sure everything was lined up properly. The result was an
ear splitting screech loud enough to have sent a ship in a fog on an
emergency change of course and the table hopped across the smooth floor
like a baby kangaroo. Oh yes, and I got a hell of a lot of satisfaction
out of the movement.
The second time I did it, Anne clapped both her hands over her mouth,
opened her eyes twice as wide as usual and locked her heels together
behind my neck. And I’d been cursing that collar for being tight!
In about no time flat the table was jammed in tight in a corner of the
room, I was rammed in tight against Anna, grunting like a drowning pig,
and a stream of half muffled yelps was spurting out between her
clenched fingers. I also felt as if I was one of those male insects
that has its head ripped off by the female during mating. As a teacher,
Anna would have made a great trapeze artist, one of those that hang by
their ankles from a swinging bar. I must have been mad to put her shoes
back on — if she dug into my back with those high heels I’d be face
down in a hospital bed for a weeks.
Mind you, I was mad, completely fucking mad, and that teacher was a
lot tighter fit over John Thomas than I’d expected. The first half was
easy-peasy, but getting the rest of him past her cunt muscles took some
serious effort. I had to lean right forward on top of the trapped
woman, bending her knees back towards her face and breaking her
anklelock on my neck. Which seemed like a good thing, only she put her
arms up and grabbed my ears instead, which was worse. And I had to let
go of her tits as I slithered forward. But Christ, wasn’t she just
squealing and thumping against me as I split her open? Our faces were
only inches apart and the smell of her perfume was getting sucked into
my nostrils like high octane vapor into an revving engine.
But what was the best thing of all, apart from the stroking my cock was
getting, was watching her expression. She might be Mrs Anna Morrison,
head teacher, a professional and married woman but right then, half an
hour after I’d met her, she was a gasping bucking bitch on heat without
a thought or a feeling in her except what she was getting from Phil
Rodger’s huge prick.
“Phil! God! I love this!”
Those green eyes were wild and rolling around like the plastic ones in
a cheap doll when it gets shaken. Here, without doubt, was a woman
getting the best fuck she’d ever had in her life and totally mind blown
because of it. I knew that she’d never forget what I was doing to her
on top of this table: I also knew that from now on she’d be panting to
spread herself out underneath me whenever I offered her the chance.
Christ, this was great, but I had to hurry!
Well, no problem there. I could feel the pressure in my shaft building
up and up, until suddenly it was emptying out into the end of the
tunnel that was Anna, and she was baying for the moon and almost
tearing my ears off — God, there were some bad habits I’d have to
break her of, but they could wait. It seemed like we’d come together,
right on the sweet spot, and you couldn’t ask for better than that,
especially on a first gallop. With my broadside fired the main battery
went limp and so did I, slumping down, and putting my lips into Anna’s
bellybutton to blow a final triumphant ‘brrrrrr.’ Then I looked up,
between those two soft piles of tit flesh, to see Anna’s head
rolling slowly from side to side, each roll drawn out with a
accompanying moan of satisfaction. If she’d taken the starch out of me
it seemed I’d certainly done the same by her.
I stood up, my trousers finally sliding all the way down to my ankles
and glanced at my watch. No time to waste, I had to get going. But
first, just a moment to tease the teacher. I put my hand down to the
bottom of her well rounded belly, twisted some of her reddish tinged
cunt hairs into a tuft and tugged at it, hard.
“Ow.” Anna seemed to come back to earth, enough to stare at me, her
cheeks as red as her bush.”Oh, God, I must have been mad. We must have
been mad. Did anybody hear us, you think?”
I looked down at her voluptuous body sprawled on top of the table with
not a thing on except the high heeled shoes and a thin gold necklace.
“Nobody heard me. But you kept going off like an air raid alarm. Look
at the state you’re in, Anna You look as if you’ve just been shagged by
a shipload of Vikings.”
“I feel like I’ve just been shagged by a shipload of Vikings,” she
answered and giggled again. “Absolutely ravaged, in fact, from head to
toe and it’s a wonderful feeling. But we mustn’t do it here again.”
I pulled on her hairs again, making her lift her bottom off the table
and then let her down again. She moaned, took my free hand and kissed
it on the palm. Yes, this was definitely a woman who liked to be put in
her place.
“No, the next time . . . ” I said, then paused. My fingers slid down
into her cunt and found her clit. “No, the next time I want you in a
loose skirt, a suspender belt and nylons, but no panties, and you’ll
bring a cane with you. Understand?”
Her face flushed even an even deeper shade than it already was as her
eyes rolled back. A tiny touch of my hooked finger and her entire body
shook as though I’d fired a spark into her.
“Phil!”
It started out sounding like a protest but finished up as a cry of
encouragement. Amazing, what some women can do with even one word.
I pulled off the french letter, tied a knot in the end, stretched the
rubber right back and let it go, to flick against the teacher’s left
nipple. She yelped and rubbed the sore spot as I draped the frenchie
between her lolling breasts.
“That’s for holding onto my ears.”
“Phil . . .”
If Anna had been thinking of complaining, the words died on her lips as
I slipped my fingers back into her cunt and curled them around to a
position where I’d achieved good results with other girls in the past.
It was like tickling a trout out of a stream if you could just hit on
the right place. When the teacher moaned and tugged on my cock I knew
I’d found the right place inside her. Keeping my hand where it was, I
stirred up Anna’s pot for her until her hips were jerking up and down.
“Phil . . . !”
Whatever the emotion in the word this time, Anna certainly wasn’t
complaining. I put my other hand over her mouth and she licked it
frantically, then snuffled for air through her nose like a rooting pig
as I made her come again. Her fingers squeezed my limp cock so hard I
almost squealed myself, the bottom half of her body shot up on the tips
of her shoes like a ballet dancer at full stretch and, incredibly, she
stayed rigid in mid air for three or four seconds before slumping down
on top of the table like a crow shot in the nest. Anna’s head slid down
into the gap between the end of the table and the wall and taking my
hand off her mouth was like uncovering the exhaust inlet on a hard
working steam engine. Well, at least she was still breathing.
While the teacher was recovering I began frantically pulling on my
uniform again. I used her panties to wipe my cock on and then shoved
them in my pocket as a trophy. If the job kept on going the way it had
started I reckoned I might be able to get together a good collection
before long.
“Phil? You’re going?”
Anna was back with me, her head lifted up and her right hand down
between her opened legs as she played with herself. God, the bitch was
insatiable once she got excited.
“I’ve got to. Otherwise I’ll be in real trouble. Sorry.”
She looked like a kid on Christmas morning waking up to find an empty
sock: “What about me?”
“It’s all right, madam, I’ll report you as a victim of a hit and run
fucking.”
Anna laughed, then screwed up her eyes and drew in a deep breath as her
fingers worked faster. “But I need another one now,” she protested.
“Sorry. But you know what they say, the criminal always comes back to
the scene of the crime. You can grab him then.”
“Yes, but for now?”
“For now, I’ve got to go.”
Anna sat up, slid her legs around, stood up as I struggled to refasten
my collar clips. Had I got everything? Helmet, baton? Yes. Ready to go.
Which wasn’t easy because the head teacher was leaning over the table,
her bare bottom towards me and still frigging herself off. It was like
looking at the full moon reflected in rippling water because Anna was
starting to gasp and wriggle as she got more excited. If it came to
that I was getting stiff again myself. Given half a chance I would have
been back up her like a rat up a drainpipe. But I didn’t have half a
chance. Anyway, always leave them wanting more, that was my philosophy.
“You want me to bring a cane next time, Phil? You meant that?”
God, but she was a glutton for punishment.
“That’s right, a cane. I’m going to make you beg for your next fuck,
Mrs Morrison.”
Whap! Whap! A left and a right hander, one open handed full strength
slap on each fat cheek and I was away, walking off between the boilers
and leaving behind a head teacher who sounded as if she was going into
labor.
I slipped out of the building after making sure nobody was watching,
then walked back to the telephone box with steps a yard long and going
like the clappers. Got there just as it rang and the sergeant asked why
I was out of breath. I said I’d got lost and had to hurry to get back
to the box. Then he asked how I was liking the job so far and I said
that it wasn’t so bad after all.
An hour later I was downing a pint of best bitter and wondering if Anna
had finally managed to get herself dressed and off home.
And next morning my landlady was brushing me down in my bedroom before
I went on duty.
“You young lads, you don’t know the first thing about your own jobs,”
she said. “In the force, you always dress on the right. Like this.”
She put down the brush, got hold of my cock and pushed it over onto the
right side of my flies. “There, that’s the way it should be. But I
suppose I’ll have to do something about it for you every morning, won’t
I?”
“Yes, Mrs Logan,” I agreed. “I suppose you probably will.”